Rallentanda
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
TANGO
Chaps in the group can dig out their old tight black flamenco pants place a red rose in their teeth and practise this over the weekend in preparation for creating
Spanish masterpieces next Wednesday.
POW PROMPT 14
POW PROMPT 14 POETRY ON WEDNESDAY
This is the last of the Language Sprinkle Series..Spanish
Here is an extract of a poem by Pablo Neruda. Write a poem with a few Spanish sprinkles based on Neruda or another Spanish poet of your choice. As always please provide translations if you write big chunks. A Sprinkle is only a few words.
ODE TO TOMATOES
happily it is wed
to the clear onion
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil
essential
child of the olive
onto its halved hemispheres
pepper
adds
its fragrance
salt its magnetism
it is the wedding
of the day
ODA AL TOMATE
se casa alegremente
con la clara cebolla
y para celebrario
se deja
caer
aceite
hijo
esencial del olivo
sobre sus hemisferos entreabiertos
agrega
la pimienta
su fragancia
la sae sa magnatisimo
son las bodas
del dia
This is the last of the Language Sprinkle Series..Spanish
Here is an extract of a poem by Pablo Neruda. Write a poem with a few Spanish sprinkles based on Neruda or another Spanish poet of your choice. As always please provide translations if you write big chunks. A Sprinkle is only a few words.
ODE TO TOMATOES
happily it is wed
to the clear onion
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil
essential
child of the olive
onto its halved hemispheres
pepper
adds
its fragrance
salt its magnetism
it is the wedding
of the day
ODA AL TOMATE
se casa alegremente
con la clara cebolla
y para celebrario
se deja
caer
aceite
hijo
esencial del olivo
sobre sus hemisferos entreabiertos
agrega
la pimienta
su fragancia
la sae sa magnatisimo
son las bodas
del dia
Three Little Males Play Boules
These words fit the music from "Three Little Maids" from the Mikado By Gilbert and Sullivan in the video clip below.If you play the video clip you can follow these words at the same time.
Three little paper cut-outs are we
Cool continental chaps we be
Avant garde hip bohemian twee
Three little males play boules
Vincent's brain swirls round in rum
Claude's quiet gentle paints for fun
Pablo's pushy outrageous and numb
Three little males play boules
CHORUS
Three famous painters came together
Arranged in plastic foliage paper
Standing upright on Rall's fine table
Three little males play boules
Three little males play boules
Vincent cut his ear in a rage thump thump
Claude painted flowers and fruit yum yum
Pablo was vain and a brute rump pump
Three little males play boules
Vincent paints red and yellow displays
Claude built a bridge in green and grey
Pablo loved bulls tortured Dora all day
Three little males play boules
Three little males play boules
CHORUS
Three famous painters came together
Arranged in plastic foliage paper
Standing upright on Rall's fine table
Three little males play boules
Three little males play boules
Three little paper cut-outs are we
Cool continental chaps we be
Avant garde hip bohemian twee
Three little males play boules
Vincent's brain swirls round in rum
Claude's quiet gentle paints for fun
Pablo's pushy outrageous and numb
Three little males play boules
CHORUS
Three famous painters came together
Arranged in plastic foliage paper
Standing upright on Rall's fine table
Three little males play boules
Three little males play boules
Vincent cut his ear in a rage thump thump
Claude painted flowers and fruit yum yum
Pablo was vain and a brute rump pump
Three little males play boules
Vincent paints red and yellow displays
Claude built a bridge in green and grey
Pablo loved bulls tortured Dora all day
Three little males play boules
Three little males play boules
CHORUS
Three famous painters came together
Arranged in plastic foliage paper
Standing upright on Rall's fine table
Three little males play boules
Three little males play boules
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
For The Technical Support Team in Scotland
The second movement of this concerto is easier to play than working out this
computer linking business . Start the video at 6.21. Thanks for trying to help
Miss Nimble Fingers Computer Nincompoop!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
POW PROMPT 13 POETRY ON WEDNESDAY
POW PROMPT 13
Time to put your poem on. I wonder how classical music inspired your muse.
I was inspired by Alfred Brendel and Schubert.I tried to express the thoughts and feelings that I have when I listen to this beautiful piece . The German Title means 'Many Thanks'
I used German because both Schubert and Brendel are German.
Time to put your poem on. I wonder how classical music inspired your muse.
I was inspired by Alfred Brendel and Schubert.I tried to express the thoughts and feelings that I have when I listen to this beautiful piece . The German Title means 'Many Thanks'
I used German because both Schubert and Brendel are German.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Alfred Brendel
The Last of the Greats
Ich bedanke mich herzlich
Swimming through clouds
backstroking breast stroking
darting ballet back and forth
a soloist in a school of fish
rhythmically changing directions
an urging towards light and peace
surging through joy
none of it mattered in the end
all the struggles pain and sacrifice
grooming prodigies grooming dynasties
all the slights and failures
measuring up
measuring up to rigid rules
discarding precious youth
dissolving disregarding time
what did all the cleverness achieve
climbing the pile to the top
Success?
in the end
none of it mattered
just a puff of dust
a floating memory
of a warm hand
an unexpected smile
an act of kindness
humility in greatness
a few soft words
That's what it was
Friday, July 23, 2010
Winter
Response to BTP prompt.
It is impossible for me to have a favourite anything but I owe it to Will to place him at the top of all poets. The more literature I study the more I realise how much the English language is in his debt. When I was about ten I was introduced to
'Winter' by Shakespeare and it struck a chord. I wrote my first poem that year .I had never seen snow but I knew of the bitter wind and the hacking coughs in the school chapel and saw the whole Shakespeare scene with a great clarity . The picture that the poem conjures up for me is the same in detail even to this day.
Winter
In Heidi plaits
And pink flannelettes
She danced
With her big orange cat
In her kitchen flat
To the strains of
Old time tunes
I'm going to be an artist
I'm going to be a writer
She sang by the light of the moon
But as she swayed and cavorted
The mood began to change
The soft white paws around her neck
Clawed deeply into her vein
Thud! Suddenly doubt's hand of gloom
Dropped her orange furred boy
And as she stood up
Boltright still
It mocked her song of joy
And cried plaintively into the night
Tu-whoo
Tu-whit Tu-whoo!
Is it true
Is it true?
Are you sure
That you are you?
Knowing that the game was up
Poor greasy Joan
Then lost the plot
Her day dreams buried and denied
Reality exchanged for her sin of pride
Grease and grime in rag torn frocks
Chillblained feet was for her lot
Back to fetching chamber pots
Back to bending bowing and scraping
Keel Joan Keel
Keel that pot
It is impossible for me to have a favourite anything but I owe it to Will to place him at the top of all poets. The more literature I study the more I realise how much the English language is in his debt. When I was about ten I was introduced to
'Winter' by Shakespeare and it struck a chord. I wrote my first poem that year .I had never seen snow but I knew of the bitter wind and the hacking coughs in the school chapel and saw the whole Shakespeare scene with a great clarity . The picture that the poem conjures up for me is the same in detail even to this day.
Winter
In Heidi plaits
And pink flannelettes
She danced
With her big orange cat
In her kitchen flat
To the strains of
Old time tunes
I'm going to be an artist
I'm going to be a writer
She sang by the light of the moon
But as she swayed and cavorted
The mood began to change
The soft white paws around her neck
Clawed deeply into her vein
Thud! Suddenly doubt's hand of gloom
Dropped her orange furred boy
And as she stood up
Boltright still
It mocked her song of joy
And cried plaintively into the night
Tu-whoo
Tu-whit Tu-whoo!
Is it true
Is it true?
Are you sure
That you are you?
Knowing that the game was up
Poor greasy Joan
Then lost the plot
Her day dreams buried and denied
Reality exchanged for her sin of pride
Grease and grime in rag torn frocks
Chillblained feet was for her lot
Back to fetching chamber pots
Back to bending bowing and scraping
Keel Joan Keel
Keel that pot
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Something For The Weekend
PROMPT 13 POW
Marta Argerich and Anoushka Shankar are two brilliant musicians who share similarities and striking differences in both culture and art media.
Let their magical performances inspire your next POW poem.
May the Musical Gods ring in your ears all weekend!
LOFT...Michael Dransfield (1948 - 1973 )
LOFT
( for Hilary)
Sometimes in the night i stir,rain
has been falling and darker than
evening is the sound of overspilling
water from the roof,two pairs of
jeans move slightly with a breeze
from the window.traffic.in the button
hole of my coat the yellow of a daisy.
thunder.lightning is a bruise of pale
havoc around my eye's coast,and my arm,or
hers, draws in under a blanket from
the first morning of winter
KISS OF DEATH..Bruce Dawe (1930-
What I fear from you
Elegant ladies who move
With stately steps and
Heads held high,eyes clear
Around and about your ordered
Drawing room world
Is not these delicate facts in themselves
( The tune you are moving to
Finished long ago).
Primp as you will your
Concept of yourselves
(Stand in a pose by the mantel,
Shoulders just so,
Toy with a wine glass,
A chivalrous opponent,words )
- But of your charity
Regard my feelings:
Promise me one thing only- that the next
Slim volume you take up with a rapturous cry
Shall never be mine
- I am too young to die...
Elegant ladies who move
With stately steps and
Heads held high,eyes clear
Around and about your ordered
Drawing room world
Is not these delicate facts in themselves
( The tune you are moving to
Finished long ago).
Primp as you will your
Concept of yourselves
(Stand in a pose by the mantel,
Shoulders just so,
Toy with a wine glass,
A chivalrous opponent,words )
- But of your charity
Regard my feelings:
Promise me one thing only- that the next
Slim volume you take up with a rapturous cry
Shall never be mine
- I am too young to die...
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
ODE TO A MORETON BAY FIG....POW PROMPT 12
POETRY ON WEDNESDAY WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND?
This 'laissez faire' prompt enabled me to write a lot of varied poems this week. I was in the mood and dashed them off rather quickly. It only happens now and again.
Ode To A Moreton Bay Fig
Some of you were around
for hundreds of years
I remember you everywhere
I remember you
in the school grounds
where small girls in
plaits and pinnies spent
summer afternoons creating
intricate dolls houses in
your vast flying butress roots
Small girls singing
small girls swinging
swinging from your branches
like Tarzan dropped shrieking
and giggling into giant
leaf litter mounds
I remember you casting your lovely
dark shadows on the sand
water lapping at your feet and we
snoozing
underneath your majestic limbs
stretched out
in the heat of the day
You have all gone now
I miss you
I miss you
each murdered
in one fell swoop
an agonising scream
then crash
I'm sorry
I'm so sorry
A few of us
died with you
Father
Do not forgive them
For they know
exactly what they do
This 'laissez faire' prompt enabled me to write a lot of varied poems this week. I was in the mood and dashed them off rather quickly. It only happens now and again.
Ode To A Moreton Bay Fig
Some of you were around
for hundreds of years
I remember you everywhere
I remember you
in the school grounds
where small girls in
plaits and pinnies spent
summer afternoons creating
intricate dolls houses in
your vast flying butress roots
Small girls singing
small girls swinging
swinging from your branches
like Tarzan dropped shrieking
and giggling into giant
leaf litter mounds
I remember you casting your lovely
dark shadows on the sand
water lapping at your feet and we
snoozing
underneath your majestic limbs
stretched out
in the heat of the day
You have all gone now
I miss you
I miss you
each murdered
in one fell swoop
an agonising scream
then crash
I'm sorry
I'm so sorry
A few of us
died with you
Father
Do not forgive them
For they know
exactly what they do
What's On Your Mind
Lace
Wandering round Vinnies
today wintry and grey
on a mission to rescue
lace doilies carefully crocheted
by pink cheeked porcelain skinned
sweet old ladies wearing rimless specs
just like my lovely grandmother
Feeling mellow and happy
in the soft afternoon light
until I thought of that lace tablecloth
T'was a wedding present from the inlaws
That's the thing about the mind
There is no delete button
I remember trudging around endless
factories owned by their friends
to find the right discounted item
Stupid naive girl that I was thought
they had fallen upon hard times
not realising that this was their
chosen modus operandi
Soon learnt that there was some basis
after all for all those rude jokes about the rich
With the inevitable outbreak of WW3
A truce was reached with a divorce
In the division of the spoils I left
it behind along with almost everything else
I never liked it
They never liked me
They have been gone awhile now
I don't remember the table cloth
I still remember them
Wandering round Vinnies
today wintry and grey
on a mission to rescue
lace doilies carefully crocheted
by pink cheeked porcelain skinned
sweet old ladies wearing rimless specs
just like my lovely grandmother
Feeling mellow and happy
in the soft afternoon light
until I thought of that lace tablecloth
T'was a wedding present from the inlaws
That's the thing about the mind
There is no delete button
I remember trudging around endless
factories owned by their friends
to find the right discounted item
Stupid naive girl that I was thought
they had fallen upon hard times
not realising that this was their
chosen modus operandi
Soon learnt that there was some basis
after all for all those rude jokes about the rich
With the inevitable outbreak of WW3
A truce was reached with a divorce
In the division of the spoils I left
it behind along with almost everything else
I never liked it
They never liked me
They have been gone awhile now
I don't remember the table cloth
I still remember them
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Irony
They beat you here by six days
You only stayed a few weeks
and then headed off
never to be seen again
Louis asked after you
just before he was executed
Well, so it's rumoured
Bad karma had followed you
to the Antipodes
The stench of blood and mayhem
back home rode on the wind's back
attaching itself as a flag
to your ship
Something made you leave
Britain's Devils Island
in a hurry to sail to your doom
Nobody knows why
Nobody is certain of what happened
A sixteen year old Corsican wanted
to join your crew but was rejected
Imagine how different the world would be
if you had accepted him
Then again imagine how different
things would be if you had got here
six days earlier
Oh and what about that aspiring painter
The pale watery blue eyed German
who was prevented from entering the Academy in Vienna
If he had been accepted
That probably would have made a difference too
But you wouldn't know about that
It was more than a century later
So what do you make of all of this
Monsieur le Comte de La Perouse
You only stayed a few weeks
and then headed off
never to be seen again
Louis asked after you
just before he was executed
Well, so it's rumoured
Bad karma had followed you
to the Antipodes
The stench of blood and mayhem
back home rode on the wind's back
attaching itself as a flag
to your ship
Something made you leave
Britain's Devils Island
in a hurry to sail to your doom
Nobody knows why
Nobody is certain of what happened
A sixteen year old Corsican wanted
to join your crew but was rejected
Imagine how different the world would be
if you had accepted him
Then again imagine how different
things would be if you had got here
six days earlier
Oh and what about that aspiring painter
The pale watery blue eyed German
who was prevented from entering the Academy in Vienna
If he had been accepted
That probably would have made a difference too
But you wouldn't know about that
It was more than a century later
So what do you make of all of this
Monsieur le Comte de La Perouse
What's On Your Mind?
I always have a lot on my mind , so for this prompt I could be posting all week.
You can too if you like.
Born Again
I hail from the sea
rebirthed as a cowrie shell
No doubt I'll end up on
a mantlepiece or bedside table
A smooth speckled silent witness
privy to all the intimacies and
secrets no one ever sees
Sometimes I whisper sad wind songs
into an ear or am hurled at the Great
Dane jumping on to the bed
Reincarnation can be tricky
You can too if you like.
Born Again
I hail from the sea
rebirthed as a cowrie shell
No doubt I'll end up on
a mantlepiece or bedside table
A smooth speckled silent witness
privy to all the intimacies and
secrets no one ever sees
Sometimes I whisper sad wind songs
into an ear or am hurled at the Great
Dane jumping on to the bed
Reincarnation can be tricky
Friday, July 16, 2010
A Weekend With Santana
Something for the weekend. Enjoy this in the sweltering heat
all you lucky Northern Hemisphere folk dancing about in summer
abandonment in the streets.I think I have espied the normally
mint julep sipping, non perspiring, Southern Belle Barbara
frolicking about in this clip.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Looking For Mr Right
A spy has written a secret message in this ' wanted ad '
To make the discovery easy I will give you some clues.
The poem (not including the title) has 11 lines
The message consists of 11 words
There is one word per line
There is a sequence to the choice of words
The number 5 is a key to choosing the word
The message begins
'Whiskered......
Looking For Mr. Right
Am searching for a whiskered handsome husband
He should be a poet or an amateur historian
very well liked living in a little village
nestled in cold lovely Scotland
Writing terza rima sonnets has given him confidence
Robert Louis Stevenson's novel 'Kidnapped'
is important literature for me and my love to be
His keeness for justice, dangerous in its intensity
a potent force to come and be reckoned with
is fanned by flames quickly if provocation is unwarranted
He is there to help when the need arises
To make the discovery easy I will give you some clues.
The poem (not including the title) has 11 lines
The message consists of 11 words
There is one word per line
There is a sequence to the choice of words
The number 5 is a key to choosing the word
The message begins
'Whiskered......
Looking For Mr. Right
Am searching for a whiskered handsome husband
He should be a poet or an amateur historian
very well liked living in a little village
nestled in cold lovely Scotland
Writing terza rima sonnets has given him confidence
Robert Louis Stevenson's novel 'Kidnapped'
is important literature for me and my love to be
His keeness for justice, dangerous in its intensity
a potent force to come and be reckoned with
is fanned by flames quickly if provocation is unwarranted
He is there to help when the need arises
POW PROMPT 12
POETRY ON WEDNESDAY
POW PROMPT 12
POW has been up and running for three months already. So, for a treat and for being such nice poets you can write a prompt to
' What's On Your Mind?' Let us know what you are thinking.Are you thinking about?
a childhood experience
joining a choir
aphids in your roses
your wife's family
getting a tattoo
learning to ride a camel
changing your image
redecorating
learning the tango
finding God
becoming a hermit
falling in love again
broken spectacles
getting a gold fish
reinventing yourself
starting a cult
something you have read
ditching a friend
learning to meditate
becoming a vegan
a scene from a movie
sending your kids to boarding school
environmental issues
or anything at all
Hey, I think I have just written mine!
I look forward to your meaty, juicy, personal poems next Wednesday.
PS
I have claimed that rock at South Head. I go to think and contemplate there regularly. It is my 'thinking rock'.
Cheers
Rall
POW PROMPT 12
POW has been up and running for three months already. So, for a treat and for being such nice poets you can write a prompt to
' What's On Your Mind?' Let us know what you are thinking.Are you thinking about?
a childhood experience
joining a choir
aphids in your roses
your wife's family
getting a tattoo
learning to ride a camel
changing your image
redecorating
learning the tango
finding God
becoming a hermit
falling in love again
broken spectacles
getting a gold fish
reinventing yourself
starting a cult
something you have read
ditching a friend
learning to meditate
becoming a vegan
a scene from a movie
sending your kids to boarding school
environmental issues
or anything at all
Hey, I think I have just written mine!
I look forward to your meaty, juicy, personal poems next Wednesday.
PS
I have claimed that rock at South Head. I go to think and contemplate there regularly. It is my 'thinking rock'.
Cheers
Rall
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Poetry On Wednesday POW PROMPT 11
POW PROMPT 11
I wrote a sequel to Prevert's 'Dejeuner du Matin ' poem for this week. I though it would be fairly easy to do but found it difficult and revised it several times.
No doubt it will be continued to be revised.Looking forward to seeing you in your French hats!
PS
I don't have French punctuation marks on my keyboard.Feels wrong not to use them!
UN SIGNET DES FLEURS FANEES
A bookmark of wilted flowers
Fleetingly she revisits
an old dream
Reawakened by a news item
or something in print
Only to remember
les reves sans espoir
are best slammed shut
in books
La verite s'est revelee
comme une fleur du mal
Les lis jaunis
poisonous yet liberating
She had been awarded the
leading role in
L'Etre et Le Neant
She was the wife that never was
She was the mother that never was
She was the friend that never was
With resignation
With acceptance
She joined the slow march
to the guillotine
Found a break in the line
and veered off into the crowd
She created her own world elsewhere
secret,beyond reach,unassailable
Immured in self imposed solitude
her carapace now cement rendered
She began to write
She found joy in the natural world
Elle n'a plus pris sa tete
dans sa main
Elle n'a plus pleure
Translation
Les reves sans espoir...dreams without hope
La verite s'est revelee...The truth revealed itself
comme une fleur du mal...like an evil flower
Les lis jaunis...yellowing lilies
L'Etre et Le Neant...Being and Nothingness
Elle n'a plus pris sa tete dans sa main...She no longer puts her her head in her hands
Elle n'a plus pleure...She no longer cries
Friday, July 9, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
POW PROMPT 11
LANGUAGE SPRINKLE SERIES...FRENCH
Bienvenue
Here is a poem by Jacques Prevert , a well known and popular French poet. I love the simplicity of his work.
Breakfast
He put the coffee
In the cup
He put the milk
In the coffee cup
He put the sugar
In the coffee
With a tea spoon
He stirred
He drank the coffee
And he put down the cup
Without speaking to me
He lit a cigarette
He made rings
With the smoke
He put the ash
In the ashtray
Without speaking to me
Without looking at me
He got up
He put
His hat on his head
He put on
His raincoat
Because it was raining
And he left
In the rain
Without a word
Without looking at me
And me I placed
My head in my hands
And I wept
Write a poem in the style of Prevert with some French sprinkles. Please provide a translation if you are going to use big chunks of French .I look forward to some very varied and interesting poems next week. A toute a l'heure (See you later)
Dejeuner du matin (Breakfast)
Il a mis
Dans la tasse
Il a mis le lait
Dans la tasse de cafe
Il a mis le sucre
Dans le cafe au lait
Et il a repose la tasse
Sans me parler
Il a allume
Une cigarette
Il a fait des ronds
Avec la fumee
Il a mis les cendres
Dans le cendrier
Sans me parler
Sans me regarder
Il s'est leve
Il a mis
Son chapeau sur sa tete
Il a mis
Son manteau de pluie
Parce qu'il pleuvait
Et il est parti
Sous la pluie
Sans une parole
Sans me regarder
Et moi j'ai pris
Ma tete dans ma main
Et j'ai pleure
Bienvenue
Here is a poem by Jacques Prevert , a well known and popular French poet. I love the simplicity of his work.
Breakfast
He put the coffee
In the cup
He put the milk
In the coffee cup
He put the sugar
In the coffee
With a tea spoon
He stirred
He drank the coffee
And he put down the cup
Without speaking to me
He lit a cigarette
He made rings
With the smoke
He put the ash
In the ashtray
Without speaking to me
Without looking at me
He got up
He put
His hat on his head
He put on
His raincoat
Because it was raining
And he left
In the rain
Without a word
Without looking at me
And me I placed
My head in my hands
And I wept
Write a poem in the style of Prevert with some French sprinkles. Please provide a translation if you are going to use big chunks of French .I look forward to some very varied and interesting poems next week. A toute a l'heure (See you later)
Dejeuner du matin (Breakfast)
Il a mis
Dans la tasse
Il a mis le lait
Dans la tasse de cafe
Il a mis le sucre
Dans le cafe au lait
Et il a repose la tasse
Sans me parler
Il a allume
Une cigarette
Il a fait des ronds
Avec la fumee
Il a mis les cendres
Dans le cendrier
Sans me parler
Sans me regarder
Il s'est leve
Il a mis
Son chapeau sur sa tete
Il a mis
Son manteau de pluie
Parce qu'il pleuvait
Et il est parti
Sous la pluie
Sans une parole
Sans me regarder
Et moi j'ai pris
Ma tete dans ma main
Et j'ai pleure
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
POW PROMPT 10 ...Cliched Claptrap
At the end of the day
At this point in time
The truth of the matter is
it will be an uphill battle
to identify the foreign object
in your eye
You have taken this to another level
You need to find out who you are
There will be outcomes in your
key performance indicator optical region
basically from pushing the envelope
and smashing the glass ceiling
I just wanted to touch base with you
not make a groundbreaking medical discovery
I know this camera is at the cutting edge of technology
but even so, we are not on the same page
I have issues with your attitude
You need to own your emotions
get in touch with your feminine side
your backside, your grass roots
Basically the bottom line is to
confront your demons
win back your self esteem with a
good ego massage and a voyage of
self discovery
Find your inner self,leave your outer self
at the doors of perception
It's the journey
journey
journey
journey
that counts
We all have to move forward
Left
Left
Left Right Left
These recurring bouts of cosmic wobbles
are going to leave you visually challenged
unless you seek a support mechanism
You are in denial concerning your self medication
These things happen for a reason
Don't just talk the talk
walk the walk
I have to run
I need closure
Have a nice day
Lurve you
Lurve you
Lurve you
Don't you just lurve the talk?
Thursday, July 1, 2010
POW PROMPT 10
The prompt for this week is the above photo. This should challenge the imagination.Hopefully the image will inspire some surreal and original responses.It is time for something a little mad this week.
See ya Wednesday with bells on.
PS
The cartoon is for the teachers in the group.
See ya Wednesday with bells on.
PS
The cartoon is for the teachers in the group.
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